


Feet Back On The Ground

by aurics



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Football, M/M, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would help if Jongin had a friend with him whilst he tries to get his Maths grades up before the term ends. Fortunately, there's one other person taking extra courses. Unfortunately, Jongin might have already made an enemy of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feet Back On The Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Written for exorelieffund @ lj, and my very patient recipient @dohsoo on twitter. Sorry you had to wait so long for this! ;; I actually really loved your prompts, and kind of had a mini mental breakdown trying to choose one. They're all so good. But ultimately, I chose this one; I hope it doesn't disappoint you! I hope I'll be less busy in the future so I can write a little something for your other prompts too. ♥♥♥

Jongin thinks he must have heard the teacher wrong.

 

“Cut off from the football team next term?”

 

His teacher nods somewhat grimly. “Unfortunately. Unless you get your Mathematics grades up before this term ends.”

 

“My grades aren’t that bad –“

 

“Jongin, you’re currently sitting on a solid F,” his teacher deadpans, his face unamused.

 

Jongin’s shoulders slump in defeat, realising he’s unable to disprove the claim. To be fair, he _has_ noticed his grades slipping lower and lower over the term – but how atrocious have they been for him to be called up to the teacher’s office like this? Jongin has no history of excelling academically; but he has never failed a class either. And he really doesn’t want to start now.

 

“I’ll… I’ll work harder for the next assessment –“

 

“No, I’m afraid that would no longer suffice.” His teacher clears his throat before continuing. “No doubt you’ve been working your hardest this term; but definitely not to the best of your ability. You’ve been far too sidetracked by other matters – I know and _you_ yourself know that you can do better.”

 

“Yes, sir,” mutters Jongin quietly.

 

Seeing Jongin’s lowered head, his teacher smiles reassuringly. “Now, now, don’t look so miserable. We’ve arranged something for you to improve your grades from its subpar state.” His teacher hands him a piece of paper filled with empty spaces and titled ‘ _Consent Form'_. “There will be after school Mathematics sessions every afternoon for students who need the extra help, and I will be teaching. You’ll be obliged to come every day.”

 

“After… school… _every_ afternoon?”

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

Jongin hesitates. “Well, it’s… it’s going clash with my football practices.”

 

“Of course, this arrangement will call for a reshuffling of your current schedule, but there’s no other way.”

 

Jongin feels his heart drop at the thought. “But… sir, I’m currently the vice captain of the football team.”

 

“Ah, yes,” his teacher nods. “We’ve talked to your captain Lu Han – he told me that he wholly approves of you prioritising your academic achievements before your extracurricular activities for the moment.”

 

“But –“

 

Before Jongin could retort, the door swings open to reveal a panting boy about Jongin’s ear height, jet-black hair plastered to his forehead by the thin sheen of sweat covering his body. His eyes blink rapidly as if trying to get used to the dim lighting of the room. Despite his small stature, Jongin notices how surefooted he seems as he traverses the room to stop at the teacher’s desk – and Jongin gets an eyeful of the boy’s taut calves, looking awfully similar to that of an athlete’s.

 

Short Boy catches Jongin ogling and sends him a glare, making Jongin flinch a little. He turns to the teacher. “May I have the consent form?”

 

“Of course. Here you go, Kyungsoo.”

 

Jongin catches a glimpse of the consent form, and realises that it’s exactly the same as the one he’s holding.

 

“You’re failing Maths too?” Jongin unconsciously blurts out, only realising his fault a little too late.

 

If looks could kill, Jongin would have probably been lying on the bottom of the third-floor building by now. Kyungsoo’s wide eyes narrow into slits so sharp that Jongin has to take a step back and gulp. Before Jongin could even try to string his words into some acceptable form of apology, Kyungsoo is already walking out the door, a slightly heavy stomp to his steps.

 

“You could have been more considerate,” his teacher sighs, leaning back on his chair. “You’re not the only one who has to make sacrifices.”

 

Jongin bites his lips, feeling guiltier than ever. “What do you mean?”

 

“Kyungsoo is the main coordinator and captain of the track and field club. Having to attend these after-school sessions is a severe blow to his activities – and he made his stance clear when we first put forward the suggestion,” his teacher shakes his head. “In the end, just like I said, he’s got no choice but to attend the extra Maths sessions if he wants to pass his class. So I think he would’ve appreciated an… encouraging statement a tad bit more.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jongin mutters, although he knows it’s not his teacher he should be apologising to.

  
  


-

  
  


“You don’t understand,” whines Jongin, his head plastered to the cafeteria table. “I basically called him stupid before I even said _hello_.”

 

“Well, maybe you were just trying to familiarise him with your own kind,” laughs Baekhyun as he neatly dodges a swat Jongin swings at him.

 

Lu Han chews his food thoughtfully, shifting so that the football on his lap stays in place. “Why don’t you just apologise? Say you were kind of on edge from being told you had to miss football sessions?”

 

“If you’d seen the looks he was giving me, confronting him again wouldn’t even _be_ an option.” The noncommittal hum of Lu Han’s reply has Jongin looking up, piercing him with what he hopes passes as a glare. “And you didn’t help much, did you? Just agreeing to the teacher’s 'compromise' so easily.”

 

Lu Han sighs, placing his spoon down and wiping his mouth. “Jongin, I was just doing what I thought was best for you. You can’t neglect your academics.”

 

“I’m not neglecting it! What are we going to about the upcoming matches? It’s the regionals. We _need_ to get through and qualify for the nationals.”

 

Lu Han replies with a shrug. “You’ve got more urgent matters to tend to – yes, getting your Maths grade up to an acceptable level _is_ urgent.”

 

“Besides,” Baekhyun cuts in, “our opponent this time is a newbie school, so Captain here would probably put the first-years players in for the first match. Just to build up their experience, you know?”

 

Still a little bitter about being sidelined, Jongin stabs at his salad. “Hope you all have fun without me.”

  
  


-

  
  
  


Maybe Jongin’s got nothing better to worry about because he finds himself fretting over his unsaid apology — and short boy’s glare — again as he makes the long trek up the stairs to his Physics class. Why can’t he just find the boy, apologize, and get it all over with? Is Jongin a coward? No. Definitely not. He’s a winger, for god’s sake. Wingers take risks, set up attack paths for the strikers that probably won’t work, but is worth a try anyway. They’re definitely not cowards.

 

“Don’t let your position define your character.”

 

Startled, Jongin loses his footing and nearly tumbles down the stairs, only saved by his iron grip on the banister.

 

When he turns around to find the owner of the philosophical voice, however, tumbling down the stairs suddenly sounds much more appealing.

 

“Um,” Jongin stammers, “Did… did I say that out loud?”

 

“Yes,” answers Kyungsoo curtly.

 

Now, if Jongin had used at least a small portion of his brainpower, he would have offered his hand out to Kyungsoo in an apology for his uncalled-for behaviour. They would have shook hands, maybe with a smile, and Jongin’s life would finally be worry-free.

 

The last thing Jongin should do is make Kyungsoo more upset by saying something dumb again, he knows — but somehow the words nearest to his line of consciousness is, “You know, your calves aren’t half bad at all.”

 

Before Jongin could mentally implode himself, Kyungsoo doesn’t even give him time to feel bad about it as he replies, “Right. Okay. Well, I think it’s best for both of us if we stayed out of each others’ way as much as possible, correct?”

 

Dejected, Jongin nods.

 

“So, if you would please…” Kyungsoo motions with his finger for emphasis, swiping it to the side. “Move?”

 

Jongin clears his throat as he shifts somewhat reluctantly to make way for the boy. A small _sorry_ hangs heavy on the tip of his tongue, but for some odd reason Jongin still can’t spit it out

 

“Thank you,” says Kyungsoo somewhat frustratedly before sprinting up the stairs, not even looking back.

  
  


-

  
  
  


“You obsess over the weirdest things,” Baekhyun had quipped that one weekend afternoon after Jongin had gone on yet another full-blown rant about Kyungsoo. “First it was that ballerino you found online and you practically worshipped every video of his. And now some shorty owl with the ‘athlete calves’.”

 

Jongin had slapped Baekhyun’s air quotes away, trying to snuff out his laughter by throwing a pillow in his direction. “I’m not obsessed. I just feel bad.”

 

At least that much is true. Jongin feels like he’s still standing at the edge of a cliff – left hanging, waiting for someone to reel him in and save him from danger. Heck, at this stage, he’d even appreciate a push that sends him tumbling to his demise. He just needs this vicious cycle of misunderstanding to end.

 

Plus, he kind of wants to make friends with the track and field dude.

 

As he walks to the designated classroom for his Maths session, Jongin expects a throng of students to occupy every seat – students whose fates are just as unfortunate as his, to be stuck in a stuffy room in the afternoon heat. Yet when he swings the door open and steps inside, only one pair of eyes look up to meet his.

 

“Oh, um…” Jongin is careful to avoid looking at Kyungsoo as he peers to his left and right. “Am I… am I in the wrong room?”

 

“No other clubs are on this afternoon, so no, you aren’t.” His voice is a little deeper and raspier than Jongin remembers, but he shakes the thought of his head, formulating an answer that hopefully won’t throw him in a bigger ditch.

 

“I see.”

 

Yes. Play it safe. Safe is good.

 

Kyungsoo is sitting right in the middle of the classroom, and so it’s pretty much impossible for Jongin to pick the furthest seat away from his sole companion. So he claims the seat nearest to the window – three seats to the left of Kyungsoo – thinking it can serve as a medium for distraction when these sessions become unbearable.

 

“The teacher should be here any minute now,” says Kyungsoo without prompting, surprising Jongin a little. He stops to cough, and then continues, “I suggest you prepare your materials.”

 

Without hesitation, Jongin starts rummaging through his bag, taking out his battered Maths textbook and his notebook that is in an equally sorry state. He glances up just as he fishes out his pens out of the corners of his bag – he really needs to get a pencil case – and sees Kyungsoo staring at him, scrutinising him in a way that makes Jongin squirm in discomfort, like he’s being dissected and analysed.

 

The door clicks open softly and his teacher steps in, a smile on his face.

 

“So, ready to get your grades up?”

 

“Is it just the two of us, sir?” As Kyungsoo says it, Jongin can detect a hint of disappointment in his voice.

 

“Yes. You two are the only ones who need this class, after all.”

 

Jongin sighs and slumps in his seat. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  
  


-

  
  


“So how was your first session with Kyungsoo?”

 

Jongin frowns, nibbling on his straw. He doesn’t like this banana milk much; the sweetness tastes too artificial. “What kind of answer are you looking for, Lu?”

 

“I’m only asking out of concern.”

 

Jongin chuckles at Lu Han’s tone and shrugs. “Nothing special. It was just the two of us in the classroom and the teacher, so it was kind of awkward.”

 

“Did you get to talk to him?”

 

“ _It was just the two of us and the teacher._ How could I have talked to him when the teacher was keeping tabs on us every minute of the lesson?”

 

Lu Han lets out a noise of false disappointment. “What a shame. But what about before the session started?”

 

“Uh. Yeah. A little I guess.”

 

“Then did you apologise to him?”

 

“No.”

 

“What did you talk about?”

 

“Nothing special. But I did tell him his calves looked great a couple of days back.”

 

Lu Han’s disapproval can be heard loud and clear in the silence as his narrow and his face scrunches up.

 

“You’re so bad at this,” he says — as if Jongin doesn’t know already.

  
  


-

  
  


Lunch rolls around and Jongin is left sitting at their usual table painfully alone. Lu Han and Baekhyun had gone off to sort out club logistics with the football coach, and Jongin’s classmate Sehun is off sick today. Of course Jongin has other friends to sit with – playing in the football team pretty much guarantees popularity anyway – but he doesn’t feel like walking around the cafeteria just to find a vacant space when there’s one right here.

 

He’s in the middle of devouring his salad and daydreaming about football tactics he’d seen on TV just last night when he hears someone approaching. He looks up and his chewing stills.

 

“Oh. Hi.”

 

Jongin silently braces himself for what’s about to come as he runs his gaze up and down Kyungsoo’s narrow but intimidating form, but Kyungsoo simply reaches into his pocket and proffers him a blue ballpoint pen.

 

“Hey. You forgot this yesterday.”

 

Jongin must have let his relief show too much because Kyungsoo has a weird look on his face.

 

“Yeah, okay – yeah.”

 

“You should probably clean your bag out once in a while. To get rid of the clutter, you know.”

 

Dumbfounded, Jongin only manages a small “Thanks,” accepting the pen in a hurry. It’s evident that Kyungsoo tries to avoid any sort of contact in the way he’s handing the pen to Jongin by the tips of his fingers.

 

Kyungsoo’s mouth comes up to cover his mouth as he coughs. After a while, he clears his throat and replies in a hoarse voice, “No problem.”

 

“Hey,” Jongin says before Kyungsoo could turn away. “Are you okay?”

 

Kyungsoo gives him that same scrutinising look, the one that makes Jongin feel like he’s being pinned down with a single gaze. "Yeah," he replies slowly – and then, out of nowhere, he smiles. A small gesture that has Jongin almost choking around his mouthful of salad. "Just a common cold, that's all."

 

Jongin is 100% sure that it's indisputable, how perfectly ethereal Kyungsoo looks when he smiles. And it doesn't help that Jongin starts noticing small insignificant details about the boy; the way Kyungsoo's hair is still perfectly styled despite the disheveled state his sports uniform is in; the way his full lips curve into a heart shape and his smile slowly turns to a small grin; and the way his thick eyebrows furrow in concentration – and Kyungsoo is _still_ looking at Jongin

 

"You've got..." Kyungsoo motions around his mouth with an inquisitive smile on. "You've got dressing... just, there.”

 

Kyungsoo looks on in amusement as Jongin trips over himself trying to find something he can wipe his mouth on — ultimately resorting to his sleeves — and even laughs when Jongin draws back grimacing at the mess he has created.

 

“You’re not very organised, are you?” The face Kyungsoo’s got on is still relaxed, yet his tone is stern, almost authoritarian — as if he’s interrogating Jongin.

 

Jongin shrugs. “Not really. It’s not exactly at the top of my priority list right now.” He’s not sure where his bout of bravery had come from, but Jongin stops Kyungsoo from turning away once again by saying, “hey, listen. I’m… I’m sorry, about. You know. Last time. And the time before that.”

 

Kyungsoo tips his head to the side, seemingly confused, so Jongin continues.

 

“I mean, I understand how difficult it must have been for you to give up your club activities, with you being the captain and all. What I said… I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. It kind of just —“ Jongin gestures with his hands a little vaguely. “— came out. So yeah. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t hate me or anything.” Jongin ends with a slight gnaw on his bottom lip.

 

“Why am I getting the impression that you’re saying this because I’m your only classmate in the after-school sessions?”

 

Jongin frowns, trying to showcase his disapproval as best as he can. “Not at all. I’ve been wanting to apologise but we just… I don’t know. We just never got the chance to talk properly.”

 

“Right, well. It’s fine Kim Jongin —“

 

“Just call me Jongin.”

 

“It’s fine, Jongin,” repeats Kyungsoo, the impatience that’s usually behind his tone undetected. “See you around, then.”

 

Jongin stares after Kyungsoo’s sure steps with his pen still clutched in his left fist. Letting out a sigh, he leans back on his chair, lunch long forgotten as something far more peculiar occupies his mind.

 

“He just ends conversations like that… wow,” mutters Jongin to himself.

  
  


-

  
  


“Great news!” Baekhyun exclaims as he slides into the seat next to Jongin.

 

“Finally found the balls to ask Chanyeol out on a date?”

 

“I meant for _you_ , asshole,” Baekhyun says, pride scuffed. “Lu Han decided to hold a practice every weekend just for you, so you don’t slack off for regionals.”

 

Jongin whips his head around to Baekhyun who’s grinning from ear to ear. “For regionals?”

 

“Come on,” he slaps Jongin’s back a little too hard. “You didn’t think we’d leave out our best left-winger, did you?”

  
  


-

  
  


It’s been two weeks since Jongin had stepped onto the football field with his team, and even the intense sun beating down on them doesn’t deter him from running around the field like a madman, hollering for passes left and right. All the pent-up energy Jongin has accumulated practically ricochets off along with his every shot, with Jongin screaming in agony whenever the ball misses the goal by a slight margin. Relentless in his coverage of the field, Jongin darts from one end of the pitch to the other with unmatched speed, only stopping for a while to watch the ball being passed on from one player to the other and predicting its next path.

 

“Get out of here, Jongin, it’s not your position!” Shouts Lu Han when he sees Jongin trying to control a long shot in the back line, but there’s no poison to his voice as he laughs.

 

When Baekhyun — who plays as Jongin’s opponent for this practice session — calls for a timeout, Jongin immediately grabs the nearest water bottle and chugs it down without a pause.

 

“For god’s sake, you could’ve toned it down a little!” Beside him, Baekhyun is panting heavily, staring daggers at Jongin. “My lungs are — are about to give out, oh god —“

 

“Sorry,” says Jongin, although his voice is devoid of any apologetic tone whatsoever, making Baekhyun roll his eyes. “It just feels really good to be back on the field again.”

 

“You sure you don’t mind these weekend practices?” Lu Han comes up from behind him, wiping a towel over his face. “I know you don’t get to practice with the whole squad since not everyone can make it, but it’s better than nothing.”

 

“You think I’d mind? I’d be thankful just to get 20 minutes out here, to be honest.” Jongin sighs in contentment. “You sure the school’s allowing you to borrow the field though? No other clubs are using it?”

 

“Not that I know of.”

 

Jongin nods, about to flip his bottle cap to a close and call out for the second half when a small figure looms into view, jogging just off to Baekhyun’s left on the edge of the pitch.

 

Jongin frowns. At a closer look, the person is wearing earphones, his cap on backwards and a navy armband around his wrist. His thin white t-shirt is thoroughly soaked at the back but Jongin can’t possibly miss the words printed neatly across it in black lettering:

 

_Track and Field Club_

 

Turning for his next lap, the runner faces the direction where Jongin is standing, and Jongin frowns even more.

 

“Hey, that’s Kyungsoo,” he says in a low voice, pointing with the tip of his water bottle. “Is the track and field club having a practice on weekends, too?”

 

Both Lu Han and Baekhyun turn around. “I told you, I don’t know of any other clubs having extra sessions. But maybe,” shrugs Lu Han. “Who knows?”

 

Jongin nods slowly, eyes not leaving Kyungsoo’s form — who’s apparently still oblivious to the fact that Jongin is playing in the centre field. Jongin’s got to give it to him; the boy’s got some mad concentration skills.

  
  


-

  
  


“Do Kyungsoo?”

 

It has Jongin looking up from his work, even though the name called out is obviously not his.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Impressive assignment. There are only minor errors in your calculations, but somehow you managed to get the right answers. Good job.”

 

Kyungsoo ducks his head quickly in a swift bow. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Now, for Kim Jongin.”

 

His notebook is placed in front of him, opened on the page where he has completed his assignment. He takes one look at his grade, groans, and proceeds to slowly flip it to a close.

 

His dejectedness doesn’t go unnoticed as his teacher clicks his tongue. “We still need a bit of work to do, don’t we?”

  
  


-

  
  


Just before they both head off to their respective homes, Jongin catches up to Kyungsoo, stopping him with a hand to his shoulder. His palm still tingles even after Kyungsoo faces him.

 

“Are you sure you’re actually bad at maths?”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen for a second before he lets out a splutter of laughter. “You ask the weirdest things Kim Jongin. But yes. I’m terrible at Maths.”

 

“But your assignment was perfect.” Jongin unconsciously sidles up to Kyungsoo’s side, falling in step with him.

 

“We’ve been doing this unit for a while now, so the questions get repetitive and predictable, so it wasn’t exactly a mystery.”

 

“Still a mystery to me,” mutters Jongin.

 

Kyungsoo is quiet for a while, sniveling into his shirt a little. It seems that his cold has only gotten marginally better, and Jongin would probably have offered him his handkerchief if it wasn’t wedged in some odd corner of his backpack.

 

“I can help you, if you want.” At Jongin’s surprised face, Kyungsoo starts to blabber, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make it sound like you needed double tutoring. I’m not any better than you, but maybe I could show you how I did specific calculations and —“

 

“Relax, I wasn’t offended,” laughs Jongin. “I just didn’t expect the offer, that’s all.”

 

They end up at Kyungsoo’s favourite coffee chain — _he’s the type to drink overpriced coffee_ , muses Jongin — claiming a comfy corner spot and taking out their Maths books once again. Outside, the sun is starting to crawl back down the sky, basking the streets and trees lining them in a warm, orangey hue. The tranquil atmosphere has Jongin sinking further into his puffy mini-sofa.

 

“This is nice,” says Jongin as he accepts a small mug of hot chocolate from Kyungsoo’s tray. He’s not very well-versed in caffeine drinks, after all.

 

Kyungsoo settles down opposite him with his own mug of White Mocha Frappe, following Jongin’s line of sight. “Yeah. When my room gets a little stuffy, I come out here to do my work.”

 

“So do you live near here then?”

 

“Yeah, just around.”

 

Like a thunderbolt, Jongin is suddenly struck by an unexpected want — he wants to see Kyungsoo’s smile again, the one that has his whole face relaxing and his heart-shaped lips lilting in the corners. For some odd reason, he liked the feeling of being caught pleasantly off guard. It’s akin to seeing a ferocious — albeit little — tiger purring; you can’t help but coo despite the alarming circumstances.

 

But Jongin’s luck is pretty rotten at best, so he has to make do with trying to dispel the silence that’s slowly settling between them.

 

“Uh, I saw you. Over the weekend.” Jongin stares at Kyungsoo’s fingers continuing to flip pages over.

 

“Oh?” Kyungsoo’s eyes go a little wide, but otherwise his face stays passive. “Where?”

 

“By the school sports field. You were running across the tracks and I was having a football session on the football pitch. Do you have extra practice in the weekends too?”

 

“Not exactly.” Kyungsoo stops at a page, skimming through the text. “I kind of just train on my own since I’m missing out on the usual weekday sessions."

 

Jongin ponders over the next question, wondering whether it’d be rude for him to ask or not when Kyungsoo looks up, observing his face.

 

“You’re probably wondering why I train alone.” Kyungsoo doesn’t even crack a smile at Jongin’s surprised face. “I kind of like doing things on my own, even if I _am_ in charge of the club. It’s less of a hassle that way. So let’s turn to this page. You’re confused about this method, right?”

 

“If you need a hand… I don’t know. During your practice or anything.” Jongin shrugs, and his heart beats just a little bit faster. “I’m right there on the field.”

 

For a second Jongin thinks he has just said something completely nonsensical — what kind of help would Kyungsoo need in a solo training session, for god’s sake? — when Kyungsoo’s lips form the very same smile Jongin had been pining over just a few minutes ago, his wide eyes to just ever so slightly narrowing in a pleased curve.

 

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

 

Jongin ends up paying rapt attention to Kyungsoo for the rest of the afternoon.

  
  


-

  


_Intermission: Do Kyungsoo’s stray pieces of thoughts (????)_

 

Jongin isn’t as stupid as Kyungsoo thought he was.

 

Truth be told, when Jongin had said he was still not understanding their previous unit, Kyungsoo wanted to cry out of pity. At this rate, how is the boy going to pass high school? Kyungsoo knows he’s not any better than he is by having to attend these extra classes, but he’s not exactly in the bottom of a pit filching for stray marks, either. For some reason, hearing Jongin getting muddled up over simple questions sucks the spirit out of Kyungsoo. But why does he care? Well, it’s hard not to care when your only classmate is failing. (Or, at least, that’s what Kyungsoo tells himself.)

 

Jongin proving him wrong in the next unit was never in Kyungsoo’s books, acing nearly every single question with little error and finishing it up in no time. His capabilities have been overwhelmingly underestimated by Kyungsoo, and he realises how wrong he had been about being one pedestal higher up than Jongin. Kyungsoo wasn’t any brighter than Jongin — they were just good at different things.

 

On a  different note, Jongin’s bag is still as chaotic as ever, and sometimes when Jongin leaves his seat to retrieve his order of hot chocolate — he still hasn’t tried any of the coffee drinks — or an extra cookie, Kyungsoo tries to clean up whatever mess is inside. Often it’s stationery spilling out of his makeshift pencil case (Jongin had finally gotten himself one, but it’s probably something from his primary school days judging by its shabbiness), or book covers being bent backwards due to the reckless manner they’ve been shoved in. Kyungsoo can’t tolerate any type of mess, so he takes a deep breath and winces through Jongin’s carelessness and hastily cleans it up for him; quick enough that Jongin never catches him in the middle of his impromptu-cleaning session.

 

The more Kyungsoo learns about Jongin, the more he’s convinced that they bring the best out of each other through their differences.

 

Kyungsoo sips his drink. Now, where did that thought come from?

  


-

  


“Why do you train so hard?”

 

Jongin stops mid-chew, frowning as he contemplates the question. With his mouth still full, Kyungsoo continues to fill the empty void left by the silence.

 

“You never stop running, back and forth across the field.”

 

“Well, it’s kind of my role.”

 

Kyungsoo frowns. “I thought you were a winger. Aren’t midfielders supposed to do the most work?”

 

Jongin whistles. “Where’d you get all that football knowledge from?” He laughs, narrowly dodging a swat sent in his direction. Seeing fallen cookie crumbs on the coffee table, Kyungsoo wipes it away with the palm of his hand.

 

“I’m not completely oblivious to other sports, you know.”

 

“Well, to answer your question,” Jongin takes another bite of his cookie, talking through his mouthful. “We’ve got regional matches coming up. They’re pretty huge, since our school has never gone any further than the semi-finals for some time. I just want to train as hard as I can regardless of whether it’s my position or not."

 

“So are you aiming for the nationals?”

 

“Of course. We couldn’t beat the reigning champions last year, so we planned on making our intensive sessions more routine this year. But,” Jongin laughs. “Guess what got in the way?”

 

“That must suck.”

 

“Not exactly. The sessions themselves aren’t that bad.” Jongin looks like he wants to say something else, but he decides against it and turns to Kyungsoo instead. “What about you? Why are you training by yourself every weekend?”

 

“Cross country coming up.” Kyungsoo mutters. “I don’t usually do these long-distance events. I usually participate in things that are… well. More fast-paced.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

 

Jongin means no harm, Kyungsoo knows, but his instinct to defend himself simply leaps up out of nowhere. “Remember when I told you not to let your position define you?”

 

Nodding vigorously, Jongin resembles an attentive puppy obeying his master’s orders. Kyungsoo thinks it’s kind of cute. “Yeah?”

 

“Well, it’s exactly because of this, really.” Kyungsoo fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Your reaction isn’t the first one I’ve seen — I know people are surprised when I tell them I sprint. They say things like _but you’re so methodical_ or _you don’t look like you like rushing things,_ sometimes even _but you’re so uptight_ —“

 

“You’re not uptight.”

 

Kyungsoo smiles, appreciating the sentiment, but he shakes his head anyway. “Nah. That’s all true. I don’t like rushing things, and sometimes I get way more calculative than I'd like, which probably makes me… uptight at times.”

 

“But?”

 

Kyungsoo shrugs. “But, you know, there are some things in life that thrill you. I don’t like being reckless, but I love the feeling of crossing the finish line before any of your opponents, and I don’t mind the wind messing up my hair either. So, you know, what you do doesn’t always define who you are.”

 

“You sounded like Plato."

 

“Did I?” Kyungsoo laughs. Not wanting to make it awkward or leaving the conversation hanging, he turns back to the textbook to continue with his exercise.

 

“You’re not uptight, Soo.”

 

Hearing Jongin say it a little hesitantly, as if he thinks it would make Kyungsoo upset one way or another sends a pleasant tingle up Kyungsoo's spine. Kyungsoo really wants to pinch the taller boy’s cheek, but he’s not sure if that’s allowed.

 

“Thanks,” he says instead, ducking his head in embarrassment.

  
  


-

  
  
  


If someone were to ask Jongin how much effort he had put in to get his grades up this term, Jongin would answer with ‘100%’ immediately. He’s not the type to go about things half-heartedly, even if he _had_ been coerced into doing so. Jongin had given his all and a little bit more — because he knows a spot in the squad’s starting XI is his reward. How badly he wants that reward.

 

It’s been ten minutes since Kyungsoo had gone home, and Jongin is still waiting for his paper to be marked. He sits absently in the classroom with the window as his only form of entertainment, watching for his teacher’s movements in the corner of his eye as his feet unconsciously jiggle about in anticipation like a child waiting to be given candy in Halloween.

 

“Kim Jongin.”

 

His chair scrapes loudly as he shoots out of his seat. “Yes, sir?”

 

With a motion of the teacher's hand, Jongin is summoned to the front and he hastily swerves around empty desks to stand in front of his teacher. He swallows.

 

“No need to look so nervous,” his teacher laughs at the sight of Jongin’s stiff face. “It’s just a revision paper to see where you’re working at.”

 

“That’s exactly why I’m nervous,” replies Jongin. “If I haven’t done a satisfactory job… I might… I might have to take classes in the weekend too —“

 

“A nice thought, but a little ambitious. I have a life of my own too, you know.” His teacher shuffles his papers, smiling lightly. “But really, there’s nothing to worry about. You and Kyungsoo — you’ve both been exceptional.”

 

His papers are handed back to him and Jongin has to refrain from squealing in delight, instead resorting to letting his mouth hang open in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, me too.” His teacher pats his arm lightly. “If you maintain this level of work until the end of term exams, you probably won’t be needing me anymore.”

 

“Wait… does that mean —“

 

His teacher nods, patting him on the back with a smile. “That’s right. You'll get to continue your club activities.”

  
  


-

  
  


The end of term exams slowly but surely draw nearer, and subsequently Kyungsoo has had to compromise more of his free time to cram other subjects as well — not to mention the increasingly busier schedule of the track and field team. Trying to juggle schoolwork and , making sure everyone on his team is training just fine without him is strenuous, but Kyungsoo takes it step by step. Slow and steady, because he knows it works best.

 

Kyungsoo stays a little longer on the tracks on his last weekend training session, his earphones blasting music isolating him from the white noise of his surroundings. He runs until his legs feel like giving out, until his lungs burn and the perspiration trickle past his thick eyebrows to land on his lashes. And by the time he stops the sky has darkened, and the lights in the field has been switched on to illuminate the tracks in a fluorescent white light.

 

Through the slow R&B remix tunes Kyungsoo hears someone calling out his name. Pulling out his earphones, Kyungsoo spins around to see who the passerby is.

 

“Hey.” Jongin is walking up to him with his hands in his pocket, shoulders a little hunched like he’s trying to curl in on himself. His hair is slightly wet and messy with long strands falling into his eyes, looking like he had just stepped out of the changing room showers. His sports bag is slung across his back.

 

“You’re still here?” Kyungsoo pants heavily, riveted on Jongin’s figure. Kyungsoo finds it hard to take his eyes off of the football player — but he averts his gaze after a while, switching the song playing on his iPod. Jongin might think he’s a little weird, anyway. “Didn’t practice end ages ago for you?"

 

“Yeah, but I noticed you were still running. Usually you’d finish up with us.”

 

“I just felt… running for a bit more today. Last time I can do this and all, you know?”

 

Jongin lowers himself on the bench beside Kyungsoo. “I know. But aren’t you happy you’ll be able to train with your team again soon?”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now,” laughs Kyungsoo. “We’ve still got a hurdle of an exam to jump over.”

 

“You’re not really worried about that, are you? You’ve been scoring perfect marks lately.”

 

“Mark my words,” Kyungsoo says as he finishes gulping down his water. “I bet the exam will be ten times harder than the stuff we do in class.” At Jongin’s chuckle, Kyungsoo can’t help but crack a smile of his own. “What about you? Ready for regionals?”

 

“Maybe not, but I can’t wait to play a game. Score a few goals, hopefully, but I’d be happy enough just to be back.”

 

“That’s nice."

 

There’s a beat of silence before Jongin nudges Kyungsoo’s side slightly.

 

“Hey, Kyungsoo?” Jongin asks quietly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

There’s a slight hesitation in Jongin’s tone as he tries to pick out the right words to say, with Kyungsoo patiently waiting for him. “After… after the final exams, we’re not going to have any more after school sessions. But is it okay — I mean, I’d really like us… to… you know…”

 

Seemingly embarrassed, Jongin resorts to shrugging his shoulders in hopes that Kyungsoo would get the message. And thankfully, Kyungsoo is an attentive enough person to understand.

 

“Sure, Jongin,” Kyungsoo gives him an easy smile as he wipes the perspiration away from his forehead. “Of course we’ll keep in touch.”

 

“Yeah. Keep in touch. That’s it.” Letting out a breath he’s been holding, Jongin returns his smile. “That’ll be nice.”

 

“Yes it will.”

 

“So I guess… I guess I’ll see you around then?”

 

“Sure. See you.”

 

Bidding him goodbye with a small wave, Jongin slowly walks in the direction of the exit, hands shoved back in his pockets. It’s odd, the feeling Kyungsoo gets seeing him leave like that — the feeling of something being incomplete, of a conversation left hanging somehow.

 

Just as Kyungsoo shakes the feeling off and prepares to freshen up and head back home, he hears the sound of hurried footsteps crescendoing in his direction, until Jongin’s messy head of hair pops up again looking abashed. Kyungsoo almost laughs in relief.

 

“I’m sorry for — for coming back, but,” Jongin huffs a puff of air out. “Can we trade numbers?"

  


-

  
  


_gl for the test tomorrow :-)_

9:28 PM

 

_Thanks. You too, Jongin._

10:43 PM

 

_ps u shud watch this movie it’s gr8 4 stimulating the brain_

10:44 PM

 

Jongin sent an image

10:44 PM

 

11:07 PM

 

_Why did you just send me that._

11:07 PM

 

_Oh my god, Jongin, I didn’t give you my number so you could show me pictures of dismembered bodies._

11:07 PM

 

_but ur awake now yea??? so better study hard_

11:07 PM

 

_Watch out after the test tomorrow, Kim Jongin, I’m getting you back for this._

11:08 PM

 

_can’t w8_

11:09 PM

  
  
  


-

  
  


The exams were almost — _almost —_ as nerve-wracking as a national tournament for Jongin; and waiting for the results even more so.

 

Jongin runs past students milling about in the hallways, across the courtyard, along the field and around the lockers to reach the cafeteria, where after one or two seconds of searching he finds Kyungsoo sitting on the table with his track and field team, looking like they’re in deep conversation about whatever tactics are needed in such a sport.

 

Usually, Jongin would have the decency to let him finish his conversation to step in — or better yet, wait until Kyungsoo notices him standing there so he could make the call himself. But this time, Jongin simply can’t wait.

 

“Sorry for interrupting,” he apologises to the people on the table after tapping Kyungsoo lightly on the shoulder. “But I really need to talk to Kyungsoo right now. Would you… mind?”

 

Kyungsoo searches his eyes, confused, but he replies with a nod. “Sure. Wait here guys, I’ll be right back.”

 

Once they’re outside, Jongin can’t help but let out a triumphant hoop, leaping and punching through the air.

 

“Wha — Jongin, stop it, people are staring. Stop, stop — what happened?”

 

Jongin lets out one last satisfied yell before he turns to Kyungsoo to envelop him in a hug, grinning from ear to ear and laughing when Kyungsoo struggles to release the hold he’s got around him. “For god’s sake, what’s gotten into you?”

 

“I got an A-!” Jongin’s voice sounds like it’s full of relief. “I did it — we did it, Kyungsoo!”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Kyungsoo stumbles back when Jongin lets go of him, and the taller boy rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Maths! Grades!”

 

Jongin punctuates these words with little claps. Kyungsoo stares at him, expression blank. “Oh, I thought so. I wasn’t sure because I thought it’d be impossible for you to get an A- in Maths.”

 

Jongin groans, and Kyungsoo’s about to laugh when he notices the petulant pout on Jongin’s lips.

 

“But yeah… I’m glad,” he says. Jongin’s lips are definitely eye-catching — plump, perfectly-shaped, and very soft-looking. Kyungsoo wonders how it’d feel like to kiss them. “We did it. Congrats to us.”

 

“You don’t sound very happy.”

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“That’s what I should be asking.” Jongin whines, and Kyungsoo has to bite down on his own lip from the action.“Come on. What is it?”

 

Kyungsoo hesitates. He has never done this sort of thing — what if he’s doing it all wrong?

 

But Kyungsoo decides to act on impulse instead, facing Jongin to quickly reach up and land a small kiss on his lips. Before Jongin can even reciprocate Kyungsoo is already stepping back, blinking quickly in an attempt to analyse what exactly has just happened as he takes in the surprised expression on Jongin’s face.

 

“Stay in touch, okay?” He blurts out.

 

Kyungsoo expects Jongin to walk away, or ask him what he just did — which he wouldn’t be able to explain anyway. But Kyungsoo’s surprised to hear the laugh that escapes Jongin’s lips.

 

“That was a great cover, really. Repeating what we’ve already established.”

 

Kyungsoo feels his cheeks heat up and he swats at Jongin’s arm, who’s starting to laugh uncontrollably now.

 

“I hate you. Shut up.”

 

“I don’t think that was what the kiss was for!”

 

Hearing his actions verbalised makes Kyungsoo want to curl in on himself in embarrassment, so he tries to run away — only to feel a hand on his shoulder stopping him.

 

“That wasn’t a proper kiss, though.” Jongin spins him around and reels him in — and up close, Kyungsoo can see the little fleck of pink dusted on his cheeks as well, and he fights the urge to caress the crimson patches of skin. “Now let me teach the champ how it’s supposed to be done.”

 

Jongin is by no means, a great kisser — they’re both inexperienced after all, but feeling Jongin’s hand cradling his head, fingers stroking his nape and the giggles breaking the kiss apart and making Kyungsoo whine; these sensations are second to none. So Kyungsoo pulls him close, forgets that they’re in a public (albeit empty) field and closes his eyes tight, not wanting the moment to come to an end.

  


-

  


Jongin presses yet another quick kiss on Kyungsoo’s lips just before he leaves the changing room.

 

“You’ll do just great, I know it.”

 

“It’s fine, Jongin, I don’t need assurances,” Kyungsoo tries to convince Jongin, even as he reaches up to throw his arms around Jongin’s neck. “You worry about yourself.”

 

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my whole team to back me up.” Jongin tightens his hold around Kyungsoo’s waist. “But you…”

 

“I have my own team, too, Jongin. Even if we don’t compete together.” He gently pries Jongin’s arms off of him. “So don’t get all worked up, okay? You’ve still got a few hours until your game. Just relax.”

 

“How can I relax when you’re off competing and I can’t watch you?”

 

At Jongin’s childish complaint, Kyungsoo flicks Jongin’s forehead, rolling his eyes. “If everything goes as planned, my competition will be over before yours does. I might be able to see you play.”

 

“Okay,” Jongin gives in, and is about to let Kyungsoo go when he grabs him by the wrist to stop him from leaving. “Just…um. Wave at me, or something if you’re in the bleachers, okay? I just want to know you’re there.”

 

Kyungsoo gives him a smile. “That goes without saying.”

  
  


-

  
  


When their striker misses another golden opportunity, Jongin is about ready to collapse and give up, frustration seeping through his limbs and into his head. The score has been at 1-1 since the 40th minute — and at 10 minutes just before the final whistle, Jongin is starting to get impatient.

 

 _We should’ve been able to score at least two more_ , Jongin thinks irritatedly as he kicks at the ground, getting back into position. He feels a frown forming on his face and he’s about to lose his cool when something — some _one_ in the bleachers catches his eye.

 

Kyungsoo’s waving at him enthusiastically, pointing at the medal looped around his neck with its surface shiny against the sun.

 

A gold medal.

 

Feeling a surge of pride well up inside of him, Jongin sends his boyfriend a grin from the field. He closes his eyes, breathes out, and sharpens his gaze. Kyungsoo’s done his part — and now it’s Jongin’s turn to showcase what he’s really made of.

 

The goalkeeper kicks the ball high in the air.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 


End file.
